


Feathery Business

by Staubengel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, morning fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubengel/pseuds/Staubengel
Summary: This was my contribution to the Good Omens Gift Exchange on Dreamwidth for eddiethemediocre.They asked for non-sexual intimacy like naked cuddles or wing-grooming, so that is what they got :)





	Feathery Business

Sunlight crept around the edges of the curtains and flooded Aziraphale's bedroom. The warmth tickled on Crowley's bare skin, pulling him into a doze. He didn't want to wake up yet. Not even Aziraphale was already awake.  
  
He could feel the angel right next to him, their arms and legs tangled together, his breath ghosting over Crowley's close face. Slowly, very slowly, Crowley opened his heavy eyelids to look at the resting form of his lover.  
  
His lips were slightly parted in his sleep, his light brown curls fell into his face. His hair was a mess after yesterday's love-making, the warmth of it still lingering inside Crowley's bones. There was nothing quite as beautiful as becoming one with his angel. Aziraphale too was still glowing from the love they had shared. Then again, it might also just be the white morning light that fell in through the window behind him.  
  
Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale's cheek and stroked it softly with his thumb. Aziraphale stirred and gave a low and sleepy sound at this. Before he could open his eyes though, Crowley leaned forward and placed a small peck on his partner's soft lips.  
  
“Mmmmmorning,” Aziraphale mumbled, a faint smile playing in the corners of his mouth.  
  
“Good morning,” Crowley replied and slung his arms around Aziraphale's body as the angel snuggled in closer against him.  
  
“How come you are awake that early? Couldn't you sleep?”  
  
Normally, Aziraphale was awake two hours or so before the demon. Crowley usually woke up to the smell of cocoa or coffee and freshly bought breakfast that miraculously was still warm when he came downstairs to sit in the back room. It probably wasn't okay for a demon to feel anything like this so deeply, but every time Crowley woke up to this smell, tangled in Aziraphale's bedsheets, he felt so warm and whole and loved that his heart seemed to smile achingly wide at it.  
  
“Who says it is early?” Crowley questioned, trying to keep one of the angel's brown locks to get into his nose and tickle him there. “Maybe you just slept in late.”  
  
“Did I?” Aziraphale asked with a panicked undertone, as if it was an unthinkable sin for him to have slept later than 8 o'clock.  
  
“I don't know the time,” Crowley hummed, just to tease the angel further. “Could be half past 9 already.”  
  
Aziraphale jerked in his arms in an attempt to look at his alarm clock, but Crowley held him too tightly to let him get up. It was so easy to mess with the book lover. How could he not make good use of that fact?  
  
“Crowley!” he finally whined, and the Serpent had to chuckle at his despair.  
  
“Relax, it's only a quarter to eight,” he soothed him, perfectly able to read the clock from his current position. “You're fully on time for no particular schedule, no worries.”  
  
“I don't like starting my days too late,” Aziraphale grumbled. “It makes you feel like the whole day is already lost.”  
  
“You mean less time to sit in your bookshop like a hermit and do absolutely nothing?” Crowley commented. That earned him such a grim gaze from Aziraphale, who even drew back just to be able to glare at him, that Crowley couldn't help but to wickedly grin.  
  
He pulled the angel close again and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.“As far as my math goes,” he stated, wrapping Aziraphale back in a cuddle, “we have 13 minutes left to lie here before you have to get up. We should make the best of this, what do you think?”  
  
“Mh, you are absolutely right, we should,” Aziraphale acknowledged and rested his forehead against Crowley's collarbone. His warm hands ran over Crowley's bare back and made the demon shudder pleasantly.  
  
“Good,” he murmured, already getting sleepy again. “I like it when you admit that I'm right.”  
  
The angel only grunted and Crowley smiled while breathing in his all too familiar scent. Of old books and almonds, honey and cinnamon, sweet and earthy, comfortable and secure. This scent was his home, this scent and this warmth, and if Crowley only could, he would stay here forever.  
  
He had almost fallen asleep again by the time Aziraphale stirred, and grumbled in protest as he freed himself from Crowley's embrace.  
  
“Only five more minutes,” he whined at him, hearing the sheets rustle as the angel sat up.  
  
“You can sleep on if you want to, but I am in need of a shower,” his lover announced, and maybe it sounded a bit reproachful.  
  
Crowley grinned to himself and opened one eye, beholding the back of Aziraphale who sat on the edge of the bed by now. Slowly, carefully, he unfolded his wings, stretching them once together with his arms and his spine. Crowley groaned audibly behind him.  
  
“Oh my Gosh, Aziraphale,” he grunted. “Are you serious about this, really? I know a thing for us to do today. We will take proper care of your wings.”  
  
“My wings?” the angel enquired, surprised, and looked back at Crowley over his shoulder. “What's wrong with them, may I ask?”  
  
“They are a total mess!” Crowley stated and sat up, upset at the view in front of him. “Have you looked at them lately? They look as if you flew through a hurricane with them! When was the last time you groomed them, huh?!”  
  
Aziraphale looked guilty and mumbled something about being busy and anyway, it was such a drag to try and do this all on your own. Crowley gave him such a hard side-eye that his forehead hurt from furrowing.  
  
“Go and have your shower,” he ordered. “And then you will sit right there and let me handle that mess you've created! And I am not accepting any excuse why we shouldn't be doing this today, understood?”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Aziraphale buckled. “Do whatever you want to my wings... But if you ruin them, I will never let you touch me again!”  
  
“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, completely in earnest. “There is nothing left to ruin about your wings.”

 

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